


Trick or Treat?

by Fire_Fox_0111



Category: The Great British Bake Off RPF
Genre: Gen, Halloween, Mock horror/comedy, gbbo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2020-12-09 08:29:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20991881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Fox_0111/pseuds/Fire_Fox_0111
Summary: The contestants of 2019’s Great British Bake Off set off on their annual trick-or-treating night - but one baker is sadly absent.Or is she?





	Trick or Treat?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ice_Fox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ice_Fox/gifts).

“Trick-or-treating won’t be the same without Helena,” sighed Michael sadly. 

”I know. It just seems wrong,” Michelle agreed. Ever since that tragic incident with the cake skewer, she had felt like a connection had been broken - they had gone home together, after all. 

“I mean, Halloween’s not Halloween without her,” said Henry, solemnly scratching his neck; his Edgar Allan Poe scarf was itching. “It was basically her entire life.”

”Still,” David said stoically, “we’ve got to carry on the tradition. For her, if nothing else.” _And because otherwise this bridesmaid outfit would have been a waste of money, _he thought, but graciously didn’t say so.

The others agreed (though some more reluctantly than others). So off they went, bags and buckets and cauldrons in hand.

The first house they came to was Sandi’s. “Oh, hi there.” This was issued from the luminous orange globe attempting to unwedge itself from the doorway. “I guess now is not the time to realise I have a pumpkin allergy.” She cast an approving eye over the trick-or-treaters’ costumes (none of which, she noted, were as unwieldy as her own). “I love the gnome costume, by the way, Phil.”

”Well, who don’t like gnomes?” Phil grinned, but the grin was half-hearted. He was thinking of the batwing beanie hat which Helena had crocheted for Norman - a hat which he had since misplaced. God, how he wished he could see that hat again.

“Seriously, though, guys, all of your costumes are great,” Sandi added, handing round a bowl of slime-filled _skildpadde. _Thenher smile froze. A frown crept onto her face. “Except that one. That is in _very_ poor taste.”

Everybody looked around to identify the subject of this accusation. Michael, at the back of the group, met their gaze sheepishly. “I suppose it’s a bit gaudy,” he said. “But I thought Beetlejuice would make a good Halloween costume.” Perhaps the glasses had spoiled the look.

”Not you, Michael. _You!_” Sandi glared. “I hope you meant it honourably and not as some sort of sick joke- “ And with that, the pumpkin turned tail and hurriedly shut the door - though not before thrusting the bowl of tortoises at a rather startled Priya.

The trick-or-treaters stood in silence for a moment. Sandi's reaction had brought a new air of disquiet to the group; some of them thought, at the time, that they could feel it chilling the back of their necks. Or was that just the wind?

"Who was she talking to?" Priya said eventually. The _skildpadde _appeared totremble slightly in their bowl.

"I don't know," replied Rosie, her voice even higher than usual. "Maybe me? I mean, maybe she thought I stole the bandages from a donkey’s hind leg or something." She looked down at her slightly unravelling mummy outfit. "I didn't, by the way. It was from the front leg. Haha. I'm joking. It's not funny, is it?" Another octave higher and she might have shattered glass.

"Let's see what we can get at the next house," said Dan hastily. So they moved on through the dark towards the next candlelit door.

* * *

Their cry of "Trick-or-treat!" was greeted by Prue - who, fortunately, was not dressed as a pumpkin (although the orange balls on her necklace did bear a strong resemblance). "Oh my, what a scary crowd," she exclaimed, eyebrows raised. "Luckily I prepared some treats for this very occasion." She disappeared for a moment, only to return with a plateful of what appeared to be maids-of-honour, dusted with a cobweb instead of a rose. Henry pressed his eyes shut; the cobweb had reminded him of something. Or someone.

"Sorry," Prue apologised. "I only have thirteen left."

Amelia looked puzzled. "That's fine. There are thirteen of us." 

Prue smiled condescendingly. "Your maths really is awful, Amelia. Or are you counting Jamie and Alex as one person?" For Jamie had invited his twin brother to pose as the other half of a two-headed monster. But Alice frowned.

"No, there are still... 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11,12... thirteen of us," she pointed out. Steph nodded in silent agreement, her fringe fluffing out over the top of her skeleton mask. That was the only visible part of her body - the rest being covered in the black cloak of the Grim Reaper, complete with wooden scythe.

"I count fourteen," said Prue cheerfully. She reached past Amelia and handed them to David, apparently assuming him to be the leader of the group. “Well, I’m sure David can sort these out among you. I'll make some more in case you come back later." And she disappeared into the house.

If the bakers had been bewildered before, they were certainly bewildered now. David handed out the pastries fairly; there was, of course, one each. “I’ve never known Prue to be unable to count before,” he mused. “Imagine that! I could have gotten away with eleven cassatelle...”

”David! You won the whole thing, you didn’t need to ‘get away with’ anything,” Alice said amiably. But her casual manner belied the vague feeling of discomfort that was tingling somewhere along her neck. They all felt it.

Nonetheless, the bakers continued onwards, passing by several seasonally decorated houses as they went. One even had a little ghost lantern at the door, with a cutely cartoonised expression. Michelle couldn’t help picturing a cluster of flowers on its head. No, she was not crying; there was a bit of dust in her eye, that was all.

* * *

Soon they came upon a driveway notably absent of pumpkins and cobwebs; in fact, the whole driveway was taken up by a substantial black Rover. It was a wonder the owner hadn’t stashed it in the garage on a night like this. Here the cluster of trick-or-treaters dithered. Nobody wanted to be the one to ring the doorbell. Eventually, though, Steph bravely went forth with her scythe and did just that.

A key was heard in the lock, followed by the clicking of several bolts. Then the door opened and Paul Hollywood’s face appeared. “Evening,” he said suspiciously, knowing full well what was coming.

“Trick-or-treat?”

Paul stared slowly at each baker in turn. “The treat is usually a reward for a good costume, isn’t it?” he said. “And I’m not sure that all of these costumes fit that criteria.”

”I spent a lot of effort on this costume, actually,” said Amelia indignantly. Indeed, her mermaid costume was both stunning and slightly terrifying - enough to make Ariel afraid to set foot in the sea ever again. But Paul just raised his eyebrows. 

“You’re a fashion designer, Amelia. You don’t count,” he asserted. “Jamie, that’s just a cloth with two holes cut in it. Dan - I’ve seen two-year-olds who’d make a scarier pirate than you. Henry - actually, what are you supposed to be, Henry?”

”The cheek!” Henry exclaimed. “I’m Poe! That’s the Gothic writer, not the Teletubby,” he added.

”I like the gnome though,” Paul mused. “And who’s in the dragon?” 

A muffled “Me,” issued from inside the scarlet head. Luckily the muffling didn’t disguise the Welsh accent. “Of course. Michelle. I should have known.” Paul smirked. “Oh, and that’s very clever what you’ve done with the cake skewer. How did you attach it, with Sellotape or something?”

Clearly Paul was no longer addressing Michelle. “Do you mean my antennae?” asked Alice, who had morphed into a disturbingly Kafka-esque sort of butterfly. “They’re pipe cleaners.”

”I can see that. No, I was talking to...” Then he paused. “Where are you? Come out where I can see your costume properly.”

Nobody “came out.” Nobody moved. Nobody said anything.

Paul straightened up. “Fine,” he said. “I was going to bring out some spiced pumpkin buns, but I don’t think I’ll bother now. Have fun trick-or-treating.” And with that, the door was bolted firmly shut.

The bakers stood there pondering. This was getting surreal. Apparently somebody had been sneaking up behind them without their knowledge - unless Sandi, Prue and Paul were all in on some sort of joke together. But at the present moment, there was a more important issue to consider.

”No treats,” said Jamie. “That means tricks.” His brother agreed. So the thirteen of them spent an exhilarating thirty seconds egging that shiny, sleek black Rover, until it looked at though a flock of ovipositing geese might have passed over it. Then Priya vehemently turfed a maid-of-honour onto the windscreen - a finishing touch before they all scarpered.

* * *

Finally they arrived outside Noel's house, where they were greeted by a swarm of jack-o'-lanterns - not just pumpkins, but gourds and butternut squashes and a cantaloupe and a giant centipede made from a marrow. An enormous spider was forcing its way through the window, and bundled in its web of frayed yarn was what appeared to be a baby doll with the head of an ant. But this was not what concerned the bakers; on the contrary, they looked upon these bizarre creatures with fondness. What concerned them was Noel.

Nobody had seen him since the incident. He hadn't answered any texts or calls and he hadn't been seen on social media. They had heard from Sandi that he always seemed to be out when she went to visit him. In fact, the only sign of life they had received from Noel was the wreath of black dahlias he had sent for Helena. Coincidence, perhaps, but even so, they were reluctant to disturb his solitude.

Finally Alice agreed to go to the door, alone, and see if she could coax him out. She rang the doorbell and waited. And waited. And waited. But Noel did not appear. 

By now it was getting colder; it was a cloudless autumn night, with stars glittering icily overhead and a thin wind seeping through their costumes. The trick-or-treaters had become miserable and tired (though few of them could expect to sleep soundly that night). Surely it was time to call it quits.

A phone pinged suddenly, making them all jump. David felt wearily in his pocket. “That’s for me,” he noted, clicking on the text. Then he frowned. 

“What is it?” asked Rosie. David wordlessly held up his phone for them to read.

_Sorry, can’t make it for T-or-T tonight. Held up by traffic in Chester. Will come & c u 2moro.  
_

_Steph xx_

And a time: _22:47. “_That was five minutes ago,” said David.

“But if Steph isn’t coming...” began Phil, “then who...”

They stared at the Grim Reaper. The Grim Reaper stared back. Then she pulled off her mask.

”Surprise!”

The thirteen bakers gave a collective gasp of shock. “_Helena?!”_

“Yes, it is me!” Helena announced, throwing back her hood with a flourish. “My disguise was very convincing, yes?” 

“You definitely fooled me,” said Michael, looking at the fringe of brown wig hair she had glued along the inside of the hood. She had certainly planned her disguise thoroughly. “But Helena - _how _are you here? I mean, we thought you were still in the hospital!”

Helena smiled. “It was not as serious as they thought. The skewer came out very clean and the wound was not infected, so as soon as it healed, they let me go.” 

“And you didn’t think to tell us!” said Henry in mock indignation. “Helena, we thought you were dying in hospital whilst we collected chocolate tortoises and egged Paul’s car!”

”I thought I would give you a surprise.” She laughed. “And I did!” Then she looked almost wistful. “I almost hoped it _would_ get infected, so they would have to cut my leg off. That would have made a great Halloween costume!”

At that moment, a gorilla wandered around the corner carrying a pair of bulging shopping bags. “Hey, kids,” the gorilla said cheerfully. “You nearly missed me, I’d run out of sweets.” He yanked the top of his head, from which Noel’s face emerged, his hair even messier than usual. “Whew, it was getting sweaty in there. You guys look spooktacular in those outfits.” He paused. “Spooktacular, geddit?”

“Noel, I have missed you,” declared Helena. Noel’s eyes went wide.

”My Goth twin!!!”

He dropped the bags and threw his arms around her shoulders in an ecstatic half-hug, which she returned laughingly. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t visit you! I was on a tour in Scotland, and then I had to go and see my parents, and then- “

”Noel. Noel, it’s okay!” said Helena. “I loved the wreath you sent me. It was so spooky and so beautiful - like me!” 

“It’s so great to have you back!” Noel said. “Kids, help yourselves to as many sweets as you like. There’s probably enough for a whole herd of elephants in there.”

He gestured to the bags on the floor, which - as the bakers soon discovered - were filled with marshmallow ghosts and liquorice spiders and chewy fangs and chocolate bats and skeleton gingerbread men and even (to David’s delight) a pack of date and coconut energy balls decorated to look like eyeballs. Everybody happily took their share, and Alice kindly filled a cauldron with treats for Steph as well.

Only Rosie still looked discontented. “Guys...” she said nervously. “If Helena’s here and Steph isn’t, then who was Sandi and Prue and Paul talking to?”

Everyone paused. “I suppose they were just playing a joke on us,” said Michelle uncertainly. “Unless it was...” She glanced at Noel.

Noel raised his hands. “Don’t look at me!”

”Also,” said Priya, her voice barely above a whisper, “if Helena’s here and Steph isn’t... then who’s that?”

The chill of the wind brushed the back of their necks again. They all turned to where Priya was pointing - where, in the shadow of a tree some twenty feet away from them, stood a woman in a white dress, like a hospital gown. Her face was shadowed, but by the light of the flickering jack-o’-lanterns they could see the dark stain on her chest. And from the centre of the stain protruded a long, thin shaft of metal, like a cake skewer.


End file.
